Hero
by AFreshlyPickedPlum
Summary: Not all heroes come from comic books.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating: T for mild language (Mostly on Fury's part lol)**

**Characters: OC and Hawkeye.  
**

**Slight AU in that once this is done there will be no chance for an Avengers 2.**

**Thanks!**

**-Plum**

* * *

Her hand drifted upward slowly, lazily toward the white ceiling. Vibrant blue eyes trailed it as it rose up, up. Her fingertips brushed the corner of one of the many gold-painted stars that dangled delicately from the ceiling above her head. The star fluttered, twirled, danced.

The hand fell back onto her chest and she let out a sigh. The star, its sudden movement marking it as different from the others, twirled slower and slower until it came to rest.

She blinked slowly, the sheets underneath her rustling with her slight movements. The sunlight that filtered into the room was bright, warming the tips of her toes. Her eyes slipped closed as she enjoyed the moment of pure tranquility.

Then the sound of her hydraulic pressurized door pierced the silence like an axe. Her eyes snapped open and her head turned over on the bed to gaze at her visitor, trapping her wild mass of red curls beneath it.

He strode in, his black coat flying behind him.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said in the voice that had the power and authority to make the entire Helicarrier shake in fear.

"Director," she greeted lazily. She turned over to face the wall.

"Miss McGuffin, you have important work to do today." The sarcasm was gone from his voice.

She slowly pushed herself into an upright position.

"Yeah, _training_."

Fury continued to stand in the doorway.

"_I'm up_."

"Keep your morale high, Agent," he said as he turned to walk away.

* * *

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said, in greeting to the two men standing at the opposite ends of the door.

One tilted his head slightly.

"Miss McGuffin," he replied. "Destination?"

"Just the coffee room," she reassured.

He gave a tight smile.

"You can never be too careful."

After getting her coffee she made her way back.

"Good morning to you too, Victor," she said to the one that hadn't spoken. He nodded shyly in acknowledgement.

* * *

Even through her headphones she could hear the Director's boots clacking on the floor. She took them off and hung them around her neck.

"Agent Coulson's on an assignment. He won't be visiting you today."

Her fingers ceased their typing and she turned to look at him.

"What kind of assignment?"

The silence and the stern look told her exactly what kind of assignment.

"Classified?"

"You're learning fast, McGuffin."

He turned away. Halfway to the door, he stopped and half-turned.

"But not fast enough. Get back to work."

With a groan, she turned back to the computer.

* * *

The sound of two-finger typing was the only sound that could be heard in the otherwise oppressive silence of the room. The headphones were off, the video sessions having been completed. Now all that was left was filling out paperwork.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Click.

Clack.

Suddenly a wailing siren was heard, and she covered her ears, startled. She watched as Victor and Joe scrambled to their posts outside of the clear, glass door. Her heart raced as Joe motioned for her to get down. Slowly she lowered to the ground, her hands locked behind her neck, like she had been taught to do in her training.

She was silent on the ground, the siren still wailing above her. Victor and Joe had their guns drawn. Terrified, she screwed her eyes shut. The anticipation was killing her.

After what seemed like an eternity, the siren finally stopped. She lifted her head, timid and unsure of what it's disappearance entailed. And then, a second call came through the PA.

"Agent Coulson is down."

A stone dropped in her stomach.

"No. No, no, no, no, no..."

She got up, and her feet felt like lead moving towards the door. Joe barred her way.

"No, I've got to get to him- I have to help him-"

Joe pushed her back inside and closed the door.

"Ms. McGuffin, your job is to stay here. And my job is to keep you here."

"But-"

Joe pressed a button on the control panel outside the door and it turned opaque. Her voice died in her throat.

A message came through her personal intercom.

"Ms. McGuffin is advised to remain in her room. If this order is violated she will be kept in with force."

* * *

"Director Fury."

He walked over with his long, purposeful strides. His hands were clasped behind his back.

"Yes, Agent Hill?"

"We're getting a dangerous spike in power, sir. I think there's a problem with the source."

"I'll handle it."

He walked away as quickly as he had come, and although there was no change in his appearance or demeanor, it was obvious that he was now considerably more annoyed than he had been.

* * *

He opened the door and narrowly dodged a flying chair, which was followed by a rough scream.

"Miss McGuffin!"

Her chest heaved as she came down from her blind rage. Fury waited for her to calm down.

"Is he-" she started quietly.

"He's dead."

The words didn't have much effect on her; she had already surmised as much. She stood dumbly, unable to speak or even move.

"Lola. Try doing something productive with your grief."

Fury turned to walk away.

In his place was a box of paint and a guitar.

* * *

Agent Maria Hill stood on the bridge. The deep cut on her cheek stung, but she wasn't going to let it slow her down. The other agents' gazes lingered on her as she passed a little longer than normal, as a result of her earlier outburst.

She walked to the front of the monitor and Fury came up beside her.

"Sir, we're getting a pleasant energy boost. What did you do?"

Fury gave a slight smile, but no answer.

Instead he turned away to witness the result of his experiment with positive reinforcement.

* * *

As he came down the hall the sound of music began to permeate the air. Victor and Joe stood at the door and gave Fury a nod of greeting.

"She in there?"

"Yes, sir."

He pressed a button on the control panel and the door turned transparent.

On the wall was a mural-style painting of a flower. Its white petals curled out delicately, and as they reached toward the center they turned a light pink. Underneath there was a message scrawled in a neat, slanted script:

"In Memory of Phillip J. Coulson. He still believed in heroes. And he helped me believe in them, too."

On the ground were three candles, their flames flickering in the light breeze that came from the slightly opened window.

She sat on the opposite side, the guitar resting on her thigh, her hand strumming slowly and the foreign words leaving her lips softly with a gentle, tribal tune:

_Ua mau ke ea o ka 'aina i ka pono 'o hawai'i._

The constant, wet rain gives life to the land and brings goodness and change to Hawai'i.

This is the story of Lola McGuffin.


	2. Chapter 2

**3 Months Later**

Lola sat on the bed, facing the blank white wall. It had been painted over since her productive grief. Her eyes were tired, blinking slowly and deliberately. Her laptop was on the floor, abandoned. The tips of her toes brushed the white floor.

The door opened.

"Get back to work, McGuffin."

"I'm taking a break."

Fury was silent, and the silence was somehow more oppressive than his voice.

"I'm_ taking _a_ break_."

"You know what this training means."

"_What?_" She launched herself off the bed. "Tell me, Fury. What does it mean? You say that I'm protecting my country. But how can I do that in here, watching training videos, when everyone else is fighting out there?" she spat out.

For a moment, he simply looked at her and said nothing before finally saying, "You're on your way to being a full-fledged Agent, McGuffin. It would be very foolish of you to give up now."

"But I couldn't give up even if I wanted to, could I?"

He didn't give an answer. Lola stepped closer, her eyes squinting slightly. "Could I?"

"No. You've seen too much of the operation. But if you become an Agent, we can trust you enough to give you clearance to roam."

"So, in other words, I'm a prisoner."

"No, you're an agent in training."

"In training, my ass! I can't leave the Helicarrier, I can't call my parents, I'm not even supposed to leave this room!" Her voice grew louder as anger and realization clouded her judgment.

"Lola, you're enduring one of the most rigorous training programs we have to offer. You're going to have to make some sacrifices if you want to-"

"No," she interrupted, "I've been making too damn many sacrifices. I've been locked up here for two years, and I want out."

"Out isn't something I can give you." With those final words, he turned and disappeared through the glass door in a flurry of black fabric.

Lola turned to the open window, and the breeze lightly brushed the stray hairs off her face.

* * *

Natasha Romanoff walked down to where a few other agents were working on the computer.

"Have any of you seen Barton lately?"

"Not for a while," one answered. "Probably went out for some fresh air. He's always talking about how he 'can't stand these goons.'"

She sighed and her hands glided along the rail as she used it to support her weight.

Barton had been on some pretty thin ice lately. If he wasn't careful now, his actions could result in a reprimanding for the whole Helicarrier crew.

She looked up, out the window at the still landscape. They had stopped for supplies, but she had no idea where he would go here, in the middle of nowhere.

With a short huff, she pushed herself up and walked away.

* * *

The man in question was sitting at a bar, about a mile away from where the Helicarrier was stopped. The bartender motioned toward the empty glass in Clint's hand, asking if he wanted it refilled. He shook his head. The bartender walked out.

He checked his watch quickly. Although he didn't want to, he would probably have to start heading back soon, or Angry Man would start showing the proof behind his nickname.

The door opened behind him, and the bell at the top clanged loudly. Clint turned around and watched as a slim redhead slowly made her way to the bar. Her face was slightly flushed, and a black backpack was slung across her shoulders. She sat down two seats away from him and put her head down for a second as she waited for the bartender to come back. Clint watched intently, curious to see what secrets lay underneath the wild mass of red curls.

Eventually he returned and the girl lifted her head.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm unfamiliar with this area. Can you tell me where the nearest hotel is?"

The man proceeded to give her directions.

"If you keep walking down that street, you'll come to a little inn in... about fifteen minutes, if you're on foot."

"Thank you."

She stood up wearily to leave.

"Wait," Clint called.

She turned around.

He was surprised by her eyes. They were a piercing shade of blue, and they were wide and innocent and tired and terrified all at the same time.

"Why don't you stay and have a drink?"

She stood for a moment, looking outside anxiously before turning back to him.

"Yeah... yeah, I think I will."

* * *

Angry Man stood on the bridge, his hands resting on the rail that Black Widow had been leaning on a half hour later. He watched with one eye as the agents swarmed beneath him. Some clacked away at computers, some milled about distributing papers and supplies.

Agent Maria Hill jogged up to him. He lazily swung around to hear what she had to say.

"Sir!" She stopped to catch her breath.

"Sir, there's a major problem with the-"

At that moment, the lights went out, plunging the entire Helicarrier in complete darkness. Shouts were heard from the Agents below.

"...power."

The shouts below began to escalate.

"QUIET DOWN THERE!" Hill bellowed into the darkness.

They instantly fell silent. After a few more moments, the backup power kicked in, and soft blue light illuminated the pathways and dimly lit the larger rooms. Agent Hill turned to the director, the dim light outlining her jaw.

"Sir, what do you want me to do?"

Fury stood in silence for a while, his eye focused on a spot in the distance. Finally, he spoke. "Keep those hooligans in check. I'll take care of this."

He walked down the hallways with long, purposeful strides, making the journey that he had made so many times before. Victor and Joe stood at the door, steadfast.

"Glad to see you're all right sir. Everyone down there okay?" Joe greeted.

"Where's McGuffin?"

"She... she never left the room, sir."

"Like hell, she never left the room." Fury shouldered past them to enter the room himself. "If she never left the room, then tell me. Where. Is. She?"

All that was there was an open window, the curtains that hung off of it fluttering in the night breeze.

Joe's mouth struggled to make words, but no sound came.

In the empty room, the three looked at each other, the soft, blue emergency light outlining the bottom halves of their faces.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, your name is _Clinton Barton_?"

"Clint Barton. Clint."

Her giggle was clearly audible in the now-empty bar. The bartender was wiping down a table with a torn white rag, but other than him, they were alone. The silence deepened.

"Never got your name," Clint said after a while.

She looked down into her empty glass. She swished it around, trying to collect the little bit of liquid at the bottom. She hesitated.

"Lola," she said finally.

"Does 'Lola' have a last name?"

"McGuffin. Lola McGuffin."

Clint chuckled. "McGuffin."

Lola gave him a dark look.

"No, it's cute!" Clint defended. "I like it. No, seriously, Lola, I really like it."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I'm serious, I-"

His cell phone rang loudly, breaking up the tranquility that had reigned over them previously. He pulled it out and checked the caller. He looked back to Lola.

"I'm really sorry, I have to take this."

"Go ahead."

Clint stood up and walked to the corner. "Yeah, boss."

"..."

"Really? I'm kind of..."

"Right. On my way."

He walked back to the bar.

"Gotta head out." He picked his bag up from the stool. "Will I see you again?"

Lola sat with her legs crossed, watching the face of the man that she had met only a few hours ago, and yet she felt like she had known for much longer. She sighed, and then pulled a napkin from the dispenser and the pen from the check that she had already called for. She scrawled something down on it and passed it to Clint, who looked at it briefly.

"808?"

"What's that?" she asked, capping the pen.

"808-546-1326?"

"Oh, yeah." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Hawaiian area code. Never had the chance to get it changed."

"That sounds like a long story." Clint held up the napkin. "We'll chat about it sometime, alright?"

Lola smiled. "Alright."

* * *

Tasha met him as he walked onto the Helicarrier.

"Fury's pissed."

"Is he ever not pissed?"

She shook her head. "No, he's more pissed than usual tonight. No one knows why, but he wants to see you."

Clint rolled his eyes as he kept walking. "No one ever knows why. What's up with the lights?"

"Don't know. They went out a few hours ago and they haven't restored full power. You should've heard the juniors screaming."

"Wish I'd been there to see Agent Hill dealing with the juniors screaming." He turned the corner that led to Fury's office door. He opened it without bothering to knock.

"You wanted to see me?"

Fury was facing the wall. He hadn't flinched when Clint had opened the door as abruptly and roughly as he could. His one eye seemed to bore a hole right through the sheetrock, the wood, the other side and any rooms or agents or furniture in between, the metal, through to the outside world. His anger seemed to emanate from him, filling the room, eventually soaking Barton with its presence.

Clint shifted his feet.

"Sir?"

Abruptly Fury turned around. "Come in and close the door."

Clint obeyed. "What is it?"

"Nothing I say is going to leave this room. Clear?"

"Crystal. What is it?"

Fury stepped forward slowly. "I need you to find someone for me." He slid a manila folder to Clint across the desk.

"Everything you need to know about her is in that file."

Clint started to open it, but Fury stopped him.

"Not here. Go to your... roost or whatever, but open it somewhere more secure."

As he closed it, he wondered what place on Earth was more secure than Fury's office. "Can I at least get a name before I go on this wild goose chase?"

"Lola Rowan McGuffin."

Clint's stomach flipped over. But he kept his demeanor cool and relaxed, trying not to look directly at Fury.

"I'll get right to it."

He walked out the door as quickly as he could.

* * *

808-546-1326.

"Lola?"

"Clint? Didn't think you'd call me this fast."

"I didn't think so either. Listen, where are you right now?"

"At that inn the bartender directed me to. Why?"

"Good. Just... stay there. Don't go anywhere."

"...Clint? What's going on?"

"... I'm not really sure."

He hung up and rubbed his face with his free hand. He was outside Tony's lab now, the file still in his hand. He walked in without warning, as he usually did.

"Hey, Katniss."

Clint brushed the nickname aside, as he had eventually learned to do. Instead, he tossed the files onto the desk next to Tony's workspace. "I need you to do a background check for me."

Tony looked down at the file. "Who-zzat?"

"Her name is Lola."

A grin spread across Tony's face. "Is she a showgirl?"

Clint glared at him, but Tony chose to ignore it.

"With yellow feathers in her hair, and her dress cut down to there-" he continued before Clint stopped him by slamming his hand on the desk.

"Doesn't Tony get the girl in that song?"

"Tony actually gets shot in the head. If I were Tony, I would just check the file."

"All right, no need to get your feathers ruffled." Tony's fingers clicked away, exploring the S.H.I.E.L.D. database that he had hacked months before.

Before long, Tony stopped typing but his brows furrowed. "That's odd."

"What?" Clint walked over to see what Tony had found.

"Her file is on a completely separate database."

"What's 'The Infinity Project?'"

"Something someone's trying to hide. It's got at least three times more protection than the main S.H.I.E.L.D. database." Tony cracked his knuckles. "It'll take me a while, but now I'm just as curious as you are."

He swiveled his chair around to look at Clint. "Now, if I were Rico, I'd go get Lola."*

* * *

Clint didn't bother to turn on the light. He knew he wasn't going to be there long. In the darkness he pulled out his go-bag and began to pack.

Before long he became aware of a light and a person behind him. He straightened from his work and turned around.

Tasha stood in the doorway, her curvy figure a shadow against the hallway's soft blue light.

"So. You're going, then?"

"I have to. You know I have to."

The two shadows closed the distance between them. Tasha's arms found their way around Clint's chest.

"I just hope you know what you're doing."

Clint's answer didn't come immediately. The silence hung between them, heavy and expectant.

Then his low, gruff voice permeated the stagnant air.

"I do, too."

* * *

**A/N:****Since Tony keeps making that obnoxious reference, I figured I should explain for those who didn't catch it. He's referring to the song "Copacabana" by Barry Manilow, in which the main character, Lola, who is a showgirl at the Copacabana, falls in love with the bartender, Tony. A Mafia boss who visits the bar, Rico, also falls in love with Lola and gets into a bar fight with Tony, (supposedly) killing him. An older Lola spends her days at the bar, never changing from her old showgirl uniform and drinking her liver and eyesight away.**

**Once again, thanks for any and all reviews!**


	4. Chapter 4

Lola laid belly-down on the bed, her phone in front of her. She sighed and rolled over to look at the popcorn ceiling. Her eyes slipped closed.

She dreamed. She dreamed of a man in a suit, of a football game watched on a white couch.

She dreamed of a circle, of the heads of friends and family. Of mouths chanting in one voice; _Ua mau ke ea o ka 'aina i ka pono 'o hawai'i_. Of a lei weaved all in white gardenias, tossed into a blue, blue ocean.

She dreamed of the rain; the wet, constant rain that brought life and goodness and change. The rain that washed away the sins of yesterday, that brought forth a new slate for today.

She dreamed of a man, tall and dark with a hole where one eye should have been, who took hold of her by the ankle. Who pulled her with a grip so strong that she knew she could not resist for long. He spoke to her, "You'll come back. In the end, you'll always come back."

* * *

She was jolted awake when her window opened. She scrambled to pull herself up, the lights that weren't there dancing crazily before her dazed and tired eyes. A blurry, dark figure climbed in and she opened her mouth to scream.

But before she could the man closed the distance and covered her mouth and whispered in her ear:

"Shh, Lola. It's me."

Clint's voice.

That didn't calm her down. She thrashed and kicked, but Clint's arms held her tight. She hadn't noticed earlier how muscular they were, but now that they were holding her captive they were hard to ignore. She struggled and tried to shout, but the muffled sound only made her more panicked.

Somehow his gruff voice still managed to worm its way through her frenzy.

"Lola, I'm not going to hurt you. Just calm down so I can let you go."

And somehow, her muddled thoughts worked out that the only way out of this situation was to obey, since it was obvious that she wasn't going anywhere on her own power. Slowly her arms stopped their futile struggle and her throat stopped its useless attempt to scream, and Clint released her.

"Look, we just need to talk," he whispered in the dark.

"WHAT THE HELL KIND OF PERSON COMES IN THROUGH THE WINDOW-"

"-The desperate kind."

Lola was silent. She sat with her back to the headboard, and her knees drawn up. A deep look of distrust crossed her face, and she watched him like the prey watches its hunter.

"Who are you?" she almost whimpered. He didn't answer.

"Did he send you to get me?" She felt her voice break as she said the words, and realized that no matter where she went, they would bring her back.

Clint froze.

"He did, didn't he?" Something boiled inside her- something deep. She knew it to be anger, but she didn't know who it was directed at. Clint, for deceiving her and coming to take her away? Fury, for being everywhere and nowhere at once; for dragging her in and leaving her alone? Herself, for allowing herself to be dragged into this whole mess?

Clint dropped a large bag on the floor, and the thud it made shook Lola out of her thoughts. She looked at it, not wanting to meet Clint's eyes.

"His orders were to bring you back- by any means necessary." Although his words stung, the deep grumble of his voice felt almost comforting at the same time.

"I hope you know I don't intend to do that."

He dropped a smaller, lighter bundle onto the ground and it landed with a metallic clang. The dim moonlight illuminated the outline of the oddly shaped bundle, and after Lola stared for a while the feathered tips of his arrows became clear in her vision.

"Agent Hawkeye," she breathed.

She remembered the name from one of her first debriefing videos.

_Weapon of choice: Specialized bow and arrow_

_Skill: Marksman_

She didn't notice that he had moved until light flooded the room. She shielded her sensitive eyes from it, and Clint walked back to where he had been standing earlier. Seeing his face clearly helped to calm her down.

"We'll have to start moving. When I don't come back they'll know something's up. But we can take advantage of that head start."

His words surprised her. _Moving?_

He took a quick peek out the window, and took note of her still-packed bag.

"You haven't unpacked yet. Good. Let's get going."

Her mouth moved in an attempt to speak, but no words came. He looked down at her.

"Right. Go change, and then we'll go."

She looked down at herself, almost in a daze.

"No, it's not-" she heard herself say. "What are we running from?"

Clint looked at her as if she had gone insane.

"S.H.I.E.L.D." he answered simply. "Isn't that what you were running from in the first place?"

"Yeah, but-" She couldn't finish the sentence. _But I didn't think they would..._

"Lola, we _have_ to _go_."

Hearing her name spurred her into action. She rolled off the bed and picked up her backpack from the chair in the corner. Clint led her to the window, and her eyes widened.

"You don't expect me to..."

"I'll help you down." He jumped down to the lower level in one swift movement and reached his hands out to help Lola down.

She peered over the balcony at the drop that awaited her and her breath caught in her throat.

"What are you waiting for?"

Her heart raced.

"Hawkeye, I-"

"No." His voice was firm and in the moonlight she saw his eyebrows furrow. "Nothing changes between us, understand? You call me Clint. And _only_ Clint."

She nodded shakily, but then remembered that he couldn't see her face from his angle.

"Clint."

"Come on. I'm right under you."

She grabbed his hands, held her breath, and jumped. He supported her weight and eased her down to the ground level. He jumped down himself, making barely any noise at all upon landing.

He took her by the shoulders and directed her forward.

"Just look straight ahead. Don't look around."

He felt her quiver slightly under his hands and remembered that she had left the room without changing. He shrugged off his leather outer layer and placed it around her shoulders.

Together they walked off into the night.

**A/N: I know, I know, a very monoscened chapter. But it had to be done. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!**

**Plum(~o3o)~**

**(i have squiggly hands)**


	5. Chapter 5

"I want all available units on this."

"Sir, if we dispatch everyone, we won't have anyone left to-"

"YOU DON'T GIVE ORDERS- erm, I guess you do."

"Should I-"

"YES, Agent Hill. Dispatch_ some _agents."

"I'll get right on it, sir."

Fury turned to the window, where the sun was slowly climbing over the horizon. Power still hadn't been restored to the Helicarrier, so they were grounded until further notice.

Personally, he couldn't think of a worse place to be grounded in. Middle of nowhere, at least a mile before any kind of establishment.

"Almost as if she planned it this way."

* * *

Lola sat in the corner of the booth, wearing Clint's jacket like a cape around her shoulders. Her eyes were heavy with lack of sleep, and her eyes blinked slowly. She looked down at the menu that rested on the table in front of her. Her eyes scanned it, not comprehending the words printed on it.

Clint sat on the opposite side, his arms crossed. He was equally tired, although his body was used to the feeling and he felt none of the usual effects. The waitress came by and asked if they needed anything.

"Joe's Special for me," Clint said. Lola still hadn't acknowledged the woman.

"And a California Omelette for my friend."

She collected the menus and walked away.

There was a long silence between them, as Lola continued to keep her gaze directed at the table, and Clint watched the world outside the window.

"Why are you helping me?" Lola asked quietly.

Clint looked at her, smiled, and turned back to the window. "I guess I've kind of got a thing for redheads."

Even though her face was still mostly hidden by the jacket she had pulled tighter around her, Clint could see her blush from the reflection in the window.

* * *

"Where are we going?"

"You tell me." He turned to her. "Any family? Friends?"

"My parents live in Cali."

"Alright then."

"Clint, we don't even have a car," Lola said, walking faster to catch up with his long, loping strides.

"We can fix that."

They were approaching a rest stop, the parking lot empty save for a few cars. The daylight was strong now, and Clint was carrying his jacket as Lola had rolled up her sleeves. A thin layer of red dust coated their skin, sticking to the sweat that ran freely down their bodies.

Clint made his way down to the parking lot.

"No. No woah woah woah woah woah wait."

Clint paid her no attention as he made his way to a car parked at the outer edge of the lot. He bent down to inspect the interior.

"Clint, what if we get caught?"

"Keep your mouth shut and we won't be."

Lola shifted her weight and chewed on her finger nervously. _What did I get myself mixed up in?_

He knocked his hip against it and Lola held her breath, but no alarm came. He squinted against the sun as he examined the lock to the front doors, and looked inside again. He raised his arm to smash the window when a thought came to him and he crouched down low instead.

Lola squatted beside him, looking on with a cautious curiosity. Clint reached an arm underneath the car, feeling around for something on the underside. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as the heat from the dark metal of the car blasted his already sun-worn face.

"Gotcha." He stood up with a small black box in his hand. He opened it, pulled out the keys from inside, and unlocked the front door, letting Lola step in. "Too easy."

It seemed hotter inside the car than it did outside.

Clint turned the key in the ignition, but the air that blasted out of the vents was warm, and it seemed that on all sides they were being baked in an oven.

"It'll cool down once we get going," Clint panted, throwing his jacket in the backseat.

Lola was silent as they made their way up to the main road. Clint left her alone for a while, but as the silence grew heavier it became clear that something was wrong.

"Everything all right?"

"I'm a criminal now," Lola said quietly.

"With all due respect, I think you technically became a criminal when you started running. It's illegal to disobey a commanding officer."

"How was that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It wasn't."

The sign for Interstate 10 passed by Lola's window.

"We'll have to stop soon for gas, but I want to gain some distance first."

"Sure," Lola heard herself say. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and she soon fell into a doze.

* * *

When she woke up the car was stopped and the vents were blowing cool air into her face. The driver's seat was empty. She shifted upright in her seat and ran a hand through her wild, slept-in hair.

The passenger door opened and the heat from outside blasted her in the face. A bottle was pressed into her hand.

"Morning, sunshine."

The door closed and Clint walked around to remove the gas nozzle. He stepped into the car, tossing a bag of chips into the center compartment.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere near Tonopah, Arizona."

Lola rubbed her eye. "Weren't we already there?"

"Yeah, we didn't get very far." He buckled his seatbelt. "You gonna fall asleep on me again?"

"No," she replied with a half-smile.

* * *

"Talk to me, Special Agent Galaga."

The agent swiveled around in his chair.

"They're on the move, but slowly."

Fury gave him a condescending glare, and somehow the intensity in that one eye made up for the absence of the other.

"And?"

"And, sir?"

"And what are we going to do about that?"

The agent took in a short, harsh intake of air. He tried to choose his words carefully. "Sir, you said you wanted this search done under the radar. That means we can't pull them in unless they do something not in the plan."

"In other words, if they do something we specifically don't want them to do."

"Yes."

Fury sighed and ran a hand over his polished head. "Keep an eye on them, I need to take my migraine pills."

* * *

As the sun sank below the horizon, a smile crept across Lola's face. Another day of freedom, gone without any apparent repercussions. Life was good.

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, I just... LIFE.**

**Plum, signing off. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know you all probably think I fell off the face of the Earth. I'm sorry. I just... Life. I rushed to get this out to you guys, so I didn't even run it through the beta yet. And sorry it's short, I just... Life. :A/N**

"Heard anything from Clint?"

Startled, Tony turned off his monitor and turned around, already making up an excuse in his head.

"Why would I know anything about Clint? Hey, have you seen him lately? Have they figured out the power problem yet?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly think there's anything that happens on this Helicarrier that I don't know about?"

Tony paused, deep in thought. "Wait, _anything_?"

Tasha rewarded his question with a silence that seemed to say "yes." Tony's eyes suddenly grew wide.

"I won't tell Pepper."

Tony breathed a sigh of relief and turned his monitor back on. "No, I haven't heard anything from him since the day he left."

Tasha leaned over his shoulder to peer at the computer screen. "What's that?"

"Lola's file."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Tony, all I see is a bunch of numbers."

"Yeah, about that... All her info is on a completely separate database from the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff. And the password changes every five minutes, so I have to try to develop a hacking system that can keep up with the changing passwords." Tony ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know why the actual S.H.I.E.L.D. security isn't this good."

"How does Fury access it?"

"I would guess that he gets the new passcode when it updates, but it's too risky for me to try and get it..."

By the time he finished talking, Natasha was already heading out the door. "Where are you going?" Tony asked.

She paused and only turned her head slightly in his direction.

"I'll take care of it."

* * *

"Hooray. San Diego."

"Cheer up. At least we're not roasting anymore."

"Yeah." Clint sighed and leaned back into the driver's seat. "Where to, Lola?"

"It would be easier if I drove-"

"Nope. Nope nope nope. You attract way too much attention."

"And I somehow attract less attention sitting right next to you?"

"I could have you lie down in the back."

"I'm good."

"All right. Where to?"

"My folks live up in Chino."

* * *

She waited. She waited until she was certain that there was no one except for her in the small, dark room. But even then, she dared not move from her delicate perch on the shelf, her toned legs neatly tucked underneath her, her arms supporting her at her sides- in effect, pulling her into the smallest ball she could comfortably fit in.

She looked up at the security camera that was perched on the wall across from her. Carefully, she brought a hand to her lips, and puffed through the tiny blowtube she had concealed there. A mass of black glop coated the lens, and Natasha slowly unfolded herself. She silently lowered herself to the ground, and began to search around the Director's desk, her eyes already accustomed to the poor lighting.

She began to despair as she realized that the codes could be anywhere. Trying to go with her best option before the camera was able to see again, she woke up the computer and slipped her flashdrive into the port. Immediately, it began to download all of Fury's files. In the darkness she waited as silent as the shadows themselves.

The download completed and she carefully withdrew the drive. She let herself out, still making no noise whatsoever, and locked the door to keep people from entering before the camera could see them.

* * *

"Red one."

"Blue one."

"Blue one."

"Blue one. Blue one. Blue one."

"No fair. That was a car dealership."

"It's still a blue one."

"Let's play a different game."

"Let's play navigator," Clint said, turning off the GPS installed in the car. "If we get lost it's all on you."

"Great." Lola looked around, searching for a familiar landmark. "Turn left onto Grand."

Clint turned, and found himself facing a wide expanse of suburbia; it was probably the most innocent-looking place he'd ever been to.

"This is where you're from?"

"Um, not exactly. My parents moved here after I went away for college." She leaned forward. "Turn left here, on Peyton."

Clint continued driving, following Lola's directions until they came to a smallish house, painted pale yellow and not bigger nor smaller than the surrounding houses. Overall it was very ordinary. Clint was mildly surprised- so far, his traveling companion had been anything but ordinary.

Lola opened the car door and was about to head up to the front door when she realized that Clint wasn't behind her. "Aren't you coming?"

Clint shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

"Clint. I'm _begging_ you to come."

Lola rang the doorbell and waited. Clint took note of the smaller details- the carefully manicured lawn, the rows of planted flowers, the garden hose tucked neatly into the corner. He felt out of place, like he didn't belong in this bubble of innocence and propriety. He casually glanced to the side and saw a young couple walking down the sidewalk, hand in hand. In that instant his sentiments were confirmed; there was no way that he could return to this kind of life- he had gone too far, seen too much, done too many wrongs. An innocence had been taken from him that he couldn't restore, no matter how he tried. He had chosen his path, and he had to follow it through to the end.

The door opened. He heard a slur of words, saw an embrace between Lola and her parents. Clint greeted them with a smile that he didn't feel.

Lola's mother had light brown hair, and luminous, flawless skin, and her face was untouched by age. Lola's hair color and most of her other physical characteristics obviously came from her father, who had a head of curly red hair. His eyes were blue, although not quite as blue as Lola's. He extended a hand toward Clint. Clint returned the gesture, and gave an automatic answer to a question asked.

Stay the night, they said.

Yeah, stay the night. That sounds like a good idea.


End file.
